Journey to Elizabeth
by 24Chocoholic24
Summary: contrary to the title, the story only covers the preparation and departure. OC. All about a girl and her friend and their ties to Will and Elizabeth. W/E though they don't appear in the story. Feel free to write a sequel if you want.
1. The Letter

The Letter

**The Letter**

_Dear Governor Wetherby Swann,_

_It is my pleasure to return to the beautiful town of Port Royal before departing from Jamaica. For five years I have wandered the island, compelled to travel Northwest. It was my wish to return to your residence and bid you all farewell. I appreciate all you have done for me and regret that I can do nothing to return the favor. Also, I am very sorry to hear of all the trouble you have recently endured. I came as quickly as I could upon receiving news of Jack Sparrow paying my hometown a visit. I sense that Elizabeth is still alive, and I intend to locate her. Your cook has supplied me sufficiently for the start of my journey, and I thank you, again. I hope we can meet again someday, and I wish you only joy and happiness in the meantime._

_Sincerely,_

"_Kate"_

_Katherine Stone_


	2. Kate

In disguises acquired from John's home, we casually strolled out to the docks. There was much bustle of people coming and going this warm, sunny day, which made it hard to locate any one person in particular whom you may have been looking to find. Thus, it took quite a while to find my plump middle-aged friend, Captain Morrison. When we did find him, his beard shifted as he grinned.

"Aye, Kate! Haven't seen ya 'round these parts fer a while! What brings ya back?" He shook her hand eagerly.

I was glad to see him, but it barely showed. John and I thought we were attempting the impossible, which is an unpleasant thought with a habit of shrinking your smile. "This is John, and we are setting out to find Elizabeth. Can you help us?"

Captain Morrison wrinkled his brow and shot me a questioning look. "You mean Ms. Swann? Why, she disappeared long ago, same time's 'Li'l Will.' I wouldn't want to take you out to be disappointed. Do you have any idea where you're going?" Now the sailor looked hopeful. When I told him, he nearly threw us on board his ship, now hopeful that we could be successful.

It was still early on in the day, and our boat didn't set sail until evening, so John and I found a calm spot on a nearby hill and relaxed. "You know," John said quietly, "when you left, Will and I became friends. He taught me how to use a sword; he left me one the day of his wedding. It was one with which he used to teach Elizabeth… this."

The sun glinted on the smooth metal as John held out the exquisitely crafted weapon. The design and handle of the sword reminded me of another I had seen in a shop once. In fact, the shop was just down the hill from where we sat. On impulse, I decided to take one more look at that old but captivating sword. As I left John in his spot, I knew that this sword was meant for me. I could feel the need to hold it, a feeling as if it longed to travel, to defend justice, to – I was puzzled at the realization – to tell me where to go.

Never before had I felt this way, this bond, to a sword. I could barely feel my limbs by the time I laid eyes on the work of art. It was pretty old, too old to be admired and used properly but too young to be considered an antique. Therefore, the beat-up beauty was worth next to nothing and scoffed at by most. Wasting no time, I bargained the old weapon into my possession.

I regarded the colored man behind the counter with sparked curiosity. "What do you know about this sword?" I asked, noting a small, apparently broken compass built into the handle of the aforementioned sword.

The young man rested his arms on the counter and shook his head. "Not much," came the casual reply. There was something else in his voice – ignorance. I could tell he told the truth; he, too, wanted to know its story. He admitted what he did know. "It was found on the beach by yours truly when I was a little tyke. It was suggested that the previous owner was a pirate. It ain't valuable or nothin'; that compass is broke. But she's sturdy an' clean. Enjoy 'er!"

As I studied the dirt-colored handle, I noticed familiar marks on the bottom. First, the crest caught my eye. It was William's family crest. Below that, barely legible, the initials "BT." Curiously, a third initial had been carved crudely before either of these, the initial being another "B." Immediately, I was able to put two and two together. With a quick "thanks," I turned and headed out. But nothing got by the clerk.

"What is it, Miss?" he inquired intensely.

"This," my tone almost matched his, "belonged to Bootstrap Bill."

"Bootstrap Bill?" he gasped, believing me nonetheless. "I heard he got sent to Davy Jones' locker 'round – about thirteen years ago. If that's some magic compass like Cap'n Sparrow's, I doubt it points to its owner. An' people've tried it on 'emselves, an' it don't work that way either. Ever since around when Mr. Turner an' Miss Swann disappeared, that compass' been goin' nuts. Another direction with each new day. What do you think? You think it points to Bootstrap Bill's body or somethin'?"

I smiled. "No," I said, very intensely now, "his son." With that, I left the man in his speechlessness, storing the sword in the sheath it came with. I wrapped the latter around my waist, overlapping the sheath containing my newer sword. On my way back up the hill, I checked on my father's pistol, his last gift to me. Sure enough, it was still locked and loaded. _Just in case I need to force an agreement,_ I reminded myself. As a female, I enjoyed a little power in the world when I happened upon it.

In the time I was gone, John had drifted off to sleep. I arrived at the top of the hill just as the clock struck noon. John started awake at the sound of the chimes. Per his request, we had lunch at the community soup kitchen. We had eaten there together for his 10th birthday, two days before I left. Memories flooded my mind as I downed my last bowl of soup for a long time to come.

Before we knew it, it was time to head back to the dock. On board the little boat, one used for shipping goods internationally, we were given mats and blankets to sleep on. We shared quarters with the ship's two crew members, Thomas and Ben. Both were fairly clean-shaven and fit, as well as middle-aged and kindly.

As the sun sank down towards the horizon to our left, John and I stood at the stern of the boat. Solemnly but with hope, we watched our hometown fade from sight, wondering if we would ever see it again.


	3. Add John

Journey to Elizabeth

**Journey to Elizabeth**

I folded the note and handed it to one of the maids to deliver to the governor. She received it rather awkwardly, inquiring if I meant to seal it. Matter-of-factly, I explained that I had nothing with which to seal it. The maid, whom I recognized but failed to remember, suddenly recalled exactly who I was – and still am.

"Kate! Little Miss Katie Marie Stone!" she cried, her eyes sparkling. Several other maids and houseworkers came curiously as she looked me over. "My, how you've grown! Tall, beautiful – "

"Dirty!" a younger maid cut her off. "Don't forget dirty, Mae!"

Then I remembered Mae. Her brown, wavy hair was pinned in a bun, and she was still as tall as ever. She had been Elizabeth's maid from the day Elizabeth was born. Mae became like a mother to Elizabeth – and to me. My parents had been friends with Mae since before _I_ was born. When I was born, five years after Elizabeth, Governor Swann agreed to allow me to stay in his home with Mae when my parents worked. Eventually, Elizabeth and I became as close as sisters. She had introduced me to Will when he arrived in Port Royal, and I had only seen him four times since I met him. He was a wonderful boy and a great blacksmith. About a year before I left Port Royal, he created and presented me a special Christmas gift. To this day, the tiny metal four-leaf clover is chained around my neck; it has never failed me yet. That was the Christmas I gave Elizabeth the bracelet that deprived me of all my money. Elizabeth and I were close indeed.

Mae gestured up the stairs, asking, "Would you like a bath? You could wear some of Elizabeth's old clothes."

I declined, but agreed to view my friend's quarters. Her room had hardly changed since I had seen it last. With permission, I searched her room for miscellaneous items she might like to have salvaged. This added a few pounds to my knapsack , but I was proud to carry the weight.

I was looking through the last drawer when a note caught my eye. It read:

_Elizabeth,_

_Please meet me in the shop Saturday afternoon. I have some swords that my master rejected; we can use them and you may have any you desire. They are kept in the corner of the storage room._

_Until Saturday,_

_Will Turner_

So Elizabeth could finally handle a sword. It was something that I had learned long ago. For three years, I had been training myself in the art of sword-handling. I had a little help from some British guards, but none had the kind of skill one required to become a successful pirate. I used a simple old sword I had found in the general store of a ghost town up north. When we were children, Elizabeth and I had secret wishes to become pirates and learn to use a sword. Apparently, we were following the same dream – two different ways.

As soon as I bid the Swann household goodbye, I was over to the blacksmith shop. At first, I did not recognize it; the sign had been removed. On the door was a worn old sign bearing but one word: VACANT. I gently pushed the door open and light gushed into the vast, empty room. Silently, I stepped inside and slid past the abandoned racks and machines to the back of the old shop. Through a door near the back wall, I found Will's room. It was very neat and organized, a place for everything and everything in its place. On his desk, in the door to the right, I noticed a large paper sticking out under a Bible. I gently moved the Bible aside to find underneath it a family tree. I saw Will's name, as well as his parents'. When I looked up to his grandparents' names, I saw something astonishing. There were not one, but two lines leading from Will's grandparents' names. One led to Will's mother, and the other led to… mine. So my mother was really Will's aunt, which made me his cousin! How did Will not know who I was? My question was answered in that my father was not documented on the tree, nor my sister or me. Plus, my mother did not go by her true name, but rather a name she wished she had. Apparently, my mother was trying to hide from the world. Now I truly must go and find Elizabeth, for wherever Elizabeth was, I knew Will – her fiancée… my cousin – wouldn't be far.

I pocketed the family tree and went on my way. My first task was to find my way into the open ocean. I knew from the books that Tortuga would be my best bet to finding a clue as to where Elizabeth was. I made my way to the docks. Along the way, I stopped in an old, hidden alley to visit a friend of mine.

He sat on the doorstep of his back door. His nose was in a thick novel, his consciousness clearly consumed by the plot. As I neared him, he looked up and rose to his feet as he greeted me.

"Kate!"

"John!" I shared his delight.

"That's 'Johnny' to you!" he retorted as we embraced in a brief hug.

As we pulled apart, he questioned my reasons for returning to "this godforsaken town." As shocked as I was to hear about the recent change of governor, my purpose was still solid.

"I'm setting out to find Elizabeth."

"Do you honestly think you have a chance?" John's smile faded.

"I have my ways." I cocked my head for a moment. "Besides, neither Will or Jack should be too far from her. As I understand, all three are key elements in Port Royal's major predicaments at this time. Finding them would be the first step in solving said problems."

John shook his head. "And then what?"

I smiled wistfully. "We'll go from there."

"We?"

"If you'll come with me." Gently, I put my hand on his shoulder.

"Seeing as there's nothing for me here…" he started.

"Go," a new voice prompted from John's door. There stood his husky uncle Sam, John's only living relative. "Your chances are better out there. Make something of yourself. Don't worry about me, either. I'll be here if you youngins ever need anything." With that permission, some provisions, and a final farewell, John joined me on my quest and we departed to the docks.

"Where, may I ask, are we looking to go?" John questioned unsurely.

I turned to him and grinned. "Tortuga."


End file.
